


Shootout

by angelsreboot



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Depression, Getting people's hopes up, In which Jesse is very sore about his boss's death and doesn't accept Reaper, Jesse isn't happy, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Reaper buys things at Hot Topic, Reaper doesn't remember Jesse, Reaper isn't happy, Reaper tries, Surprise Surprise someone Die Die Dies, Torture, You don't know yet, lots of blood, no one is happy, not really - Freeform, potential Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 14:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8211613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsreboot/pseuds/angelsreboot
Summary: Jesse faces an old ghost of the past that he didn't even know was alive.





	1. Chapter 1

The last rays of sunlight fell upon the dusty landscape of Route 66. Jesse didn't like being back. One of his old friends got in contact with him and needed some protection. He didn't mind offering it, for the right price. Deadlock's on his tail and apparently the man had roused Talon's wrath as well. Great, just what he needs. More people to shoot. Maybe he'd get lucky there wouldn't be many. He tipped the brim of his hat up so he could see better, scanning the area before drawing the curtains back. Just lay low, keep the man safe, he could do this. One night's rest could wait a couple days.

It was a quiet, cloudless night. The kind that made Jesse want to go out and star gaze when he couldn't sleep at night. Imagine it was Gibraltar and that he was back in Blackwatch. Getting chided by Gabe when he got up for his morning coffee and smoke and saw him out there still. Being joined by him on his serape and the two laying in tranquil silence. One of the seldom times McCree didn't open his mouth.

Sometimes, he misses these times. Sometimes, he loathes them. He could never decide which one was more apt in describing how he felt. He strives for something he couldn't get back no matter what he tried. He wasn't coming back. He knows that. Right...?

McCree wrung his hands together and a sigh escaped his lips. No point in dwelling on the past when he has the present to guard and take care of. He went up the stairs and checked on the man before he went back down. He wants to pace, yet it'd be stupid to do so. He has a job to do. Best to make sure it's carried out correctly. So he went back up and stayed in the man's room to watch over him. He was asleep at the moment. He should be asleep himself, but he can't. He's busy with guarding.

He didn't know when he fell asleep, but the man was still there when he woke up. Just a nap for a few hours. He looked around at the time. 7 AM. Too early. He groaned quietly and dragged himself up, stretching and rubbing his eyes. Jesse felt like hell. He went to get something to eat, pausing slightly and looking out the window. He could've _sworn_  he saw someone moving. Would it be a bad idea to go outside and check? Probably not. He needs a smoke anyways to calm his nerves. He took a cigar out and lit it, taking a drag before exhaling and relaxing a bit. Much better. He kept it in the corner of his mouth afterwords, walking over to the door and peering out and around.

Nothing.

His nerves are getting the best of him. Maybe he's hallucinating. He slowly went back in and locked the door, turning around and finding his face close to a bone-white mask and two shotguns pointed directly into his gut. Shit. How'd he get in here? And why send Reaper when they could've sent normal Talon agents? He felt his blood run cold as he heard his breath, knowing that he was at a severe disadvantage at the moment. Jesse reached for his Peacekeeper, feeling a shotgun move and stop him from doing so. This isn't good.

"Y'know, if I didn't know any better, I'd consider this intimate. This ain't real fair either, since ya won't let me even get my gun. Why don't we take this outside and settle it the old fashioned way?" He tried, offering a smirk and a blow of smoke in the masked figure's face. He didn't get a cough, so he presumed he was, at one point, a smoker. Ironic, due to the black smoke that was around them at the moment. 

"Usted escucha fantasma?" He offered, which got a scoff yet Reaper slightly moved back. Seems he knows Spanish as well. He's making progress.

"No soy un fantasma. Soy segador, muchacho." A raspy voice responded, gruff and gravelly. It made him shiver slightlg from how echoey it sounded and how inhuman it was. He had a response at least.

"No te llamaré Reaper hasta que una copia de seguridad suficiente para que yo sea capaz de respirar y hacer de esto una lucha justa, fantasma." The _fantasma_ in front of him gave another scoff but he let McCree move and open the door. Then cowboy started moving outside, he followed after and even closed the door behind them. It didn't seem like the _fantasma_ knew why he was doing this, but Jesse seemed happy.

"A diez pasos, fantasma. Viejo duelo moda en primer lugar. Si vivimos, entonces podemos jugar según sus reglas." He offered, to which _fantasma_ muttered under his breath but obliged. He knew he'd win after all. Yet there was a feeling in his gut that Jesse shouldn't be trusted like this. Plus, his hellfire shotguns didn't work long range. He's at a disadvantage but he's subjecting himself to this. Why?

Jesse and _fantasma_ did their ten paces, afterwords Jesse drawing his gun and firing two shots. Reaper went into wraith form to avoid them, solidifying himself once close enough to try and unload a few shotgun shells into the cowboy. He never played by anyone's rules, yet he let this man at least set him up for failure. It was enraging, yet his anger fizzled out when McCree rolled out of the way mostly. He'd gotten hurt on the side, due to how he's clutching at it and his metal hand was becoming red with blood. A wave of concern swept over him, yet he kept it at bay. He went over and fired another shot, this time at his leg. He could've sworn he heard it breaking and the new wound caused the man great pain. He smiled behind that mask. Fired another shot at his chest, but the body armor absorbed most of the damage. Jesse looked up at him and fired a few shots at his legs, making him curse in Spanish and drop down beside him. Didn't think he had anything left in him, but damn did that hurt. He growled under his breath, but the shit eating grin Jesse gave him made it stop abruptly. That was familiar. As familiar as having two shotguns in his hands. He feels sick. He wants to kill him right now, get rid of him. There's a small, tiny voice that said no in the back of his mind however. Quiet, but still audible. _Keep him alive. We need him alive._ It's a lie. He was sent to kill all obstacles blocking him from that man.

Reaper lifted a shotgun and held it at Jesse's head. The cowboy froze up and watched it, knowing he couldn't get out of the way should he decide to pull the trigger. Despite knowing this himself, he shifted the shotgun and brought it down upon his head, knocking him out.

The last thing Jesse sees is a small spark of recognition behind the mask. Then he's swallowed by darkness and he goes limp beside Reaper.


	2. Death Becometh a Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper decides to figure things out the difficult way.

Reaper stares at the cowboy.

It dons on him that he doesn't even know his name, yet he's tied him up to a chair and put him in an abandoned warehouse. All of this trouble just because some little voice in the back of his mind says not to kill him. To keep him alive and well and _safe._  It's disgusting. He loathes it. With enough thought, he felt like he might be able to place the man's name. It starts with a J, his mind supplied. Jake? James? Junior? John? Jess? _Jesse_. His name is Jesse. If he recalled correctly, the man had a high bounty on his head from those wanted posters of him. Jesse McCree. This cowboy had managed to shoot him in his leg three times when he'd been caught off guard. He'd patched himself up fully, he had nanomachines after all to fix himself. Regarding the other's wounds, however, he'd simply bandaged him up the best he could. Put some medicine on them too, but it wouldn't do anything spectacular to his healing like the nanomachines did for himself.

He wants to shoot him though. With almost his entire being, he wants to take out his hellfire shotguns and let his brains and blood scatter onto the floor and chair. To take his soul and devour it. Yet he can't. That little part that resist kept telling him _no, no, **no.**  _That this 'Jesse' needs to be alive. Due to this, he can't even get his shotguns out. Couldn't pull the trigger even if he tried. He did try. This man brought a warm feeling in his chest that he wants gone. A few butterflies, as well. He wants them gone. Wants this man gone from his life for good.

Hell, even snapping his neck would be enough for him. To feel him go limp and cold under his gloved hands and hear the loud snap of his bones. He tried. He failed. Reaper can't will himself to do anything _lethal_  to this man. If it wouldn't kill him, he'd somehow find a way to do it. Will his being to hurt him, even that was difficult now that he's been around him more. Waiting for him to wake up. _Dios,_ what is this cowboy doing to him? He tapped a claw on his thigh, grumbling under his breath that this man could be the death of him and he doesn't even know him yet. Doesn't know why he's so _familiar_ and _warm._

It hadn't been too long of a wait at least. Perhaps it was due to his internal battle over these thoughts that made it seem like it hadn't been lengthy. His attention snapped over to him and away from his thoughts when he saw him stirring and opening his eyes groggily. Watched as he tugged at his restraints and winced from pain. **Good.**  Feel the pain. He deserves it for making him this way. Slowly he felt his gaze flicker over to him, a small flame that tried to make out any surroundings in the dim lighting. Wanted to find some indication on where they were, smart. Seems he thinks he brought him to a Talon base. Shame, he should have. Things would have been much easier. Not as difficult as they are right now. 

"Where th'hell am I?" 'Jesse' spat, making a dark and echoing chuckle bubble in Reaper's throat. It made him momentarily freeze up. Seems he didn't expect that. He stepped into the pale moonlight that filtered through the broken planes of glass. It was a cloudy night, just barely illuminating him but giving just enough contrast so 'Jesse' could see him. He took a few steps towards him, making his approach slow. A predator dressed in all black. Sleek and intimidating. The cowboy wants to move away, but he didn't back down. He's got balls. He leaned over him, grabbing his chin and jerking it up so he couldn't shy away anytime soon. Didn't seem like he would, which made that warm feeling in his stomach grow more prominent and those butterflies fluttered their damn wings. A low growl was heard before he spoke.

"Nowhere important. What matters is that you will be answering my questions, whether you want to or not, vaquero." He dug a claw into the man's cheek as he said this, making him yelp in surprise. When he removed it, there was a decent sized wound where it had been and blood flowed from it freely. Down his jaw and pooling at his chin before dripping down. It's enrapturing. For a few moments he watched this, while Jesse tried to figure out how to get out before he gets even more wounds from Reaper.

"Ain't answerin' any of your damn questions." He glared, trying to struggle once more. Reaper tsk'd under his breath and dragged that claw across his cheek. A thin cut emerged, blood beading up slowly from the shallow wound. The _vanquero_ hissed again and bit his finger, trying to make him stop. The metal claw was on his tongue, the taste of iron from both his blood and the claw itself made him want to spit it back out, yet he kept it in. Another chuckle arose from Reaper.

"Sí, you will. Rather eager now, aren't we?" Jesse bit down more for a moment before letting him take the claw out of his mouth, a thin trail of saliva connecting the two for a moment before it broke. Shame, that was actually nice. He studied the claw for a moment before he punched him in the face for good measure. He took it rather well, so he punched him once more. And again. And again. And again. Bruised up his face and made it swollen and breathtaking. Even punched him in the gut a few times. Blood was on his body armor, but he didn't mind at all. Blood was on the sides of his mouth as well, matted and dry in his beard. "Willing to cooperate now, vanquero?"

There was a quiet groan from 'Jesse', but he looked at him despite the pain of opening his eyes. It was progress. He took it as a yes, of course. "Great. I wouldn't have had to do that if you coooerared in the first place. Now, who are you?" He was met with a grumble about how it was avoidable, feeling a claw press in just enough to make him stop before he was cut once more by it.

"'M Jesse McCree." Some blood oozed from his mouth when he spoke, voice filled with pain. He was pleased with this answer, wiping the blood off slowly from the corners of his mouth. It was intimate, and Reaper surprisingly didn't seem to mind doing such a thing. Maybe he didn't register doing it. Jesse just barely leaned into this attention.

"Good. That wasn't so hard, now was it?" There was a slight nod as he closed his eyes, unable to keep them open for much longer. The pain seems to be too much for him at the moment, shame. He removed his hand from his chin, continuing on after a few moments. "Great. Were you apart of Overwatch?" The question escaped Reaper's lips without realizing he said it at first. The cowboy shook his head slightly.

"Blackwatch." Was the quiet mutter from him. So he wasn't completely wrong. He seemed pleased with this, pulling a needle out of his coat's pocket and proceeding to jam it into his side and emptied the contents into him. Nanomachines. He's feeling generous. Even if he was at full strength, he couldn't escape him after all. No one escapes the Reaper. He pulled another needle out and jammed it into his arm, injecting him with sedative. Jesse was out like a light, and the needles were discarded.

Blackwatch was, perhaps, the only thing apart of Overwatch that he felt familiar to. He'd done extensive research on it, more so than the better side of the coin. He'd pieced together who he was before this. Before he became this monster. Though he had more scars than the pictures he could dig up, he had a sneaking suspicion that he had been the commander of Blackwatch itself. Gabriel Reyes. He hadn't dug anything up on Jesse McCree yet, however.

He has work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how long this will be yet, I'm thinking 10 chapters at least? It's difficult to say. My muse is here though, so I'll try to keep it up!


End file.
